The Beat Within

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The Beat Within
A Weekly Publication of Writing and Art from the Inside
Volume 9.30
Many of you already know my story. It is ugly and
beautiful at the same time. In my 16 months of
freedom I have been doing all that I can to make up
for those years of freedom lost and to work with
the youth that are now caught up in the system and
facing the same trenches I had to endure life in for
sooooo long.
-To read Jason “Compa” Tréas’ amazing story in its entirety go to page 64 in The BWO
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W
hat a morning we experienced this past Wednesday! captivated audience of respectful young men was priceless.
Several of us were very, very fortunate to be in Jason was there for all you guys who know SF/YGC B5, let
the presence of our multitalented and very loyal alone any max unit, any juvenile hall USA. Jason was there for
comrade, Jason “Compa” Tréas. every one of you readers of The Beat Within. He would make
Jason, in a sense, returned to his roots, B5, the max unit every single one of you readers proud, no matter what your
in SF/YGC, where he not only spoke to the young men housed race, your religion, or your politics.
there, but took them on a wild ride, the wild ride of his life, Hey, if The Beat Within ever wrote that coffee table book
all the while challenging them, educating them, and sharing for the masses, Wednesday’s encounter in SF/YGC B5 would
plenty of the important information only he can offer. Simply be its own chapter, titled “Compa’s Return,” or shall we say it
put, no counselor, no PO, no lawyer, could offer what Jason again? “Priceless.” Jason is The Beat Within; Jason, in part, is
shared that morning. you. Now let’s hope this is only the start of Jason venturing
Mind you, this is the same exact unit where Jason was into juvenile halls and touching and saving lives from further
held for more than thirteen months back in 1993, as a 16- destruction. He’s very special. Thank you, Jason.
year-old, where he was charged as an adult in a very, very Look for Jason’s take on this historical moment in his life
serious high-profi le case. on pages 64-65.
We should add, Jason gained plenty of respect from staff Moving along, the topics discussed leading up to the
during his time there, but also made a “name” for himself. writing that packs these pages were: “The Victim — If you
Jason Tréas has become an infamous individual in the had the chance to meet your victim or his/her family, would
minds of those who were at SF/YGC in 1993, and with his you want to? Why or why not? What would you say to your
contributions, from numerous cover art pieces to knockout victim? Do you feel any remorse towards your victim? Because
commentaries for The Beat Within over the years, his name of your actions, what do you think he/she is going through?
has stayed in the minds of many who work in the system. How has your victim’s life changed because of you? Do you feel
Seeing Jason walk through the metal detector at SF/YGC and hostile towards or angry at your victim? Who is your victim? A
be embraced with hugs and handshakes from the director of stranger? A rival? A family member/mom or dad? Yourself?
the hall to probation offi cers and frontline counselors was a On another tip, what do you think your victim would say
real sight to see! to you? Do you think they hold any resentment towards you
We wish you readers could have had the experience today or have they forgiven you? What do you think their family
of listening to Compa, who truly paid the price (from SF/YGC would say to you? What would you hope to get from meeting
to YA, and by his 18th birthday, to the reception unit in San your victim?
Quentin State Prison, which eventually led him to the hole If you wouldn’t want to meet your victim, would you
in SQSP’s death row, mainline at New Folsom, then Ad Seg as at least want to write a letter to him/her? If this is all too
a validated gang member. Eventually, due to his validation, farfetched for you, tell us, in an appropriate way, why do you
the last seven years of his incarceration were spent in the hate your victim?”
notorious SHU (Security Housing Unit) in Pelican Bay State Second, “If You Could Make A Law — We know that for
Prison where the men spend close to 23 hours a day in solitary most of you, your interaction with the law has been negative.
confi nement. But can the law be used to help you and other people?
Of all the engagements Jason has been a part of since he If you could pass your own law, what would that law be
started working with The Beat when he paroled 16 months and why? For instance, if you could pass a law requiring the
ago, this one defi nitely had the most meaning. He truly spoke judge or his or her children to spend a week in juvenile hall
from the heart in his old juvenile hall lockup, SF/YGC B5. just to see what it’s like, would you? Or what if there was a
Jason’s ride was like many of yours — in the hall, a rider, law that every person had to have their college tuition paid
down for the cause, soldier for life. This was the beginning of for? What if there was a law that the sun had to shine 300
the ride many of us Beat readers know oh so well, be it Jason’s days a year? What if there were a law saying ice cream had to
story or your own. From the Hall to prison. Period! be served with every meal? Or on a more realistic tip, would
Watching Jason bring the pages of The Beat to life was you change the three strikes law, how and why? What law
priceless. This is exactly what this editor and Jason used to would you pass to really lower violence and crime? Could you
discuss back in the early days of The Beat when we would create a law that would eliminate poverty?
exchange numerous letters about the day he would return to Why would you choose to create this law? How will this
the hall to embrace the latest generation of young men living law help you or the people it was made for? What would this
within the walls of the system. And this past Wednesday this law change?
reality, fi nally, came to life. So lawmaker, what law would you pass?”
What Jason gave was priceless, his life! His personal Finally, “I love it when . . .”
story! For close to two hours he held center stage, captivating From the writings, we came up with a host of POW (Piece
these young men like they were in church and he was the of The Week) recipients, they are Clepto, Smelly Mel, Friskie,
preacher man! Jason’s return to the hall was not just a O-Dog, Alfred M, and Young Man from San Mateo; Sasha from
homecoming of sorts, it was a closing, and a beginning, too. Maricopa/SEF in Arizona; Esequiel from Santa Cruz; and Young
Returning to the same max unit, seeing the OG counselors, Smokey, Angelica, Lil’ Jepeabo, and Abbas for the 150 Crew.
and smelling that juvenile smell . . . was very overwhelming Props to these writers and all of our co-POW writers, too.
as well as therapeutic. Seeing the cell you were housed in, Oh yeah, don’t forget our latest editor’s note writing
getting to talk to the young men who were you at an earlier contest! The good news for some of you is that our deadline
life. Powerful, yet sad in a sense because not that much has has been pushed forward to August 31, 2004. So, if you are
changed — poor folk of color incarcerated in a shady system up to the task, you still have time to submit your essay! The
to say the least. contest question is, what is your all-time favorite movie and
Nevertheless, this is what The Beat Within is all about. why? Do you like love stories, horror, crime and punishment,
Jason is the epitome of the Beat. He spoke about how he or musicals? What was it about that movie you loved so
changed from that young person who claimed his town, to the much? Was it actually the movie or the story that led up to
person he is today, a person who recognizes how much more or revolved around the movie? Top prize for this contest is a
he has in common with every young person raised like you $100 money order, followed by a $50 money order for second,
in every ‘hood and every gang. And he made the point that while third and fourth places will earn the writers $25 each.
until that lesson of unity is learned, you will always be on the How can we close this issue without dedicating this
losing end of society. incredibly powerful issue fi lled with history, history that
Today, Jason is totally off the streets that raised him, nearly every one of you, most likely, contributed to in some
unless he is tracking down a young person, attempting to form or another, to our amazing colleague and friend, Jason
save them from further destruction. Now he’s into the big, “Compa” Tréas. We truly love this man. We hope someday
bad and scary legit world, making a difference. Bringing his soon you, too, can embrace him with a hug and handshake
knowledge to life. From the pages of The Beat to the streets, after hearing him tell his story, be it in the local juvenile or in
the schoolhouse, the Boys and Girls clubs, Walden House, the community. Thanks again, Jason, for being so dedicated
and the politicians/policymakers and journalists who try to to this cause, The Beat cause. You truly relate, give hope, and
understand and care. understand the power you have, and from this, and more, you
He is not the fi rst colleague to return to B5; we’ve had are making a huge difference in all of our lives. This issue is
plenty of others over the years, which were meaningful, too, for you. Jason. Thank you.
but Jason’s story, his charisma, and his commitment to self, Read on; see you next week . . .
made seeing him tell his story for close to two hours to this
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The Beat Within, a weekly newsletter of writing and art by
incarcerated youth, is published by Pacifi c News Service. Editor’s Note 2
At The Beat Within, we go through a lot of trouble to censor
inappropriate sexual remarks, foul language, and gang references.
There is enough tension in our commuities already–we don’t aim to
Counselor's Corner 4
bolster it. It is in The Beat’s interest to promote peace and unity. Our
goal is to educate one another.
The Beat Within publishes the opinions and views expressed by the
participants in our workshops. This is simply the pure voice of the Pieces of the Week 5
youth. The views you read do not necessarily refl ect those of the
publisher, editor or staff. All rights are reserved. Nothing from this
publication can be reproduced without our written permission.
Co-Pieces of the Week 11
To our writers: What you write could be hazardous to you. Your
words have consequences, and could be used to incriminate you.
Try to illuminate your feelings and viewpoints without running the
risk of providing ammunition for those who might use your words
Standouts 17
against you.
Co–founders: Sandy Close and David Inocencio
The Victim 46
Senior Editors: David Inocencio and Donna Hunter
Assistant Editors: Michael Kroll, Allan Martinez, Matt Melamed and
Arlene Mitri. I Love It When. . . 47
Graphics/Layout Editor: Manen Pau
Staff: Pauline Craig, Jason Treas, Allan Tinker, David Muhammad,
Jill Wolfson, Patricia Johnson, Nancy DeMartini, Erica Lewis, Jason Weekly Writings 51
Tuufuli, Fanny Duong, Yvette Mannion, Arnisha McCall, Anthony
Huston, Amelia Post, Shomoe-Iwe Pina, Vilasak Thebpanya, Amanda
Ables, Mervyn Wool, Omar Turcious, Dennis Morton, Keir Davidson,
Daniela Rible, Roy Hodgson, Yvette Coronado-Mercer, Will Roy, Eric Voices In Spanish 63
Strenger, Devin Melvin.
Art: Much props to everyone for the great art this week.
The Beat Without 64
Spiritual Advisor: Jack Jacqua

Book Donor: Marisela Norte
Beat Supporters: The Beat Within greatfully acknowledges the
generous support of funders of Pacifi c News Service’s Youth
Communications Programs – Annie E. Casey Foundation, California
Arts Council, California Wellness Foundation, Community
Foundation of Silicon Valley, Community Technology Foundation of
California, Compton Foundation, Creative Work Fund, Cricket Island
Foundation, Evelyn & Walter Haas, Jr. Fund, Ford Foundation, Free
Speech TV, Hewlett Foundation, James Irvine Foundation, Louis R.
Lurie Foundation, Marguerite Casey Foundation, Morris Stulsaft
Foundation, Nathan Cummings Foundation, Oakland Fund For
Children & Youth, Open Society Institute, Peninsula Community
Foundation, Richard Rhoda Goldman Fund, Rockefeller Foundation,
S.H. Cowell Foundation, San Francisco Arts Commision, Shinnyo-
en Foundation, Stone Foundation, Stuart Foundation, Surdna
Foundation, California Endowment, Tides Foundation, Van Loben
Sels/Renbe Rock Foundation, Vanguard Public Foundation, Wallace
Alexander Gerbode Foundation, Walter S. Johnson Foundation,
Youth Justice Funding Collaborative, and the Zellerbach Family
Fund.
Writers: Thanks to all the participants in our workshops in the San
Francisco’s Youth Guidence Center and Log Cabin Ranch School and
the Walden House Facility, Maricopa County, Arizona, Walden House,
San Mateo, Santa Clara, San Luis Obispo, Alameda County, Santa
Cruz County and Marin County Juvenile Halls. As well as Natural
Bridge in Virginia, and Hidden Truth in Rhode Island. If you have any
questions or comments about The Beat Within, or if you would like
to become a subscriber, contact us at: 275 Ninth St. SF.CA. 94103 or
call [phone] or check us out at
www.thebeatwithin.org
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I’m Sorry, Mom
i learn from history I regret the time when I did not come home
I regret the time I left Moms alone
I regret the times I kept her up late
my kids say daddy I regret the time that I saw disappointment in her face
I regret when the school would be her workplace
I regret the times that I made her sad and I did not give a damn
i’m smooth
I regret the times I treated her less than dirt
I regret the times that she felt like giving up
Mom, it wasn’t you, it was me that screwed up
as a cadi’
Tomorrow is not guaranteed and yesterday is gone.
A chance to be forgiven is a reason to live on.
i live life gladly I love you.
-Chief Dawg
i make others happy
Quote of Quotes
Never argue with a fool
Because they will only drag you down
To their level and beat your ass
There’s more to people than meets the eye. To look at Chief Dawg, a large,
buff man and a counselor at Hillcrest, you wouldn’t at fi rst see the sensitive With experience…
human being who could write the following poems. It’s another lesson in Don’t be fooled by a fool…
“You can’t judge a book by its cover.” We are honored, once again, to present
these four wonderful poems. -Chief Dawg
I Love My Son
I love it when I get to see my son
I love it when he gives me a hug
We want to welcome a new contributor to The Beat’s “Counselor’s
I love it when I have to chase him around Corner” — L Bo, who writes this week from AlaCo aka 150. Now he’s
I love it when he say, “Daddy, sit down!” not trying to preach, just share; but we think he has something to
teach! We’re grateful he cares, and we appreciate his being there.
I love it when he is fast asleep
I can’t wait to kiss him on his cheek I Love It When …
I love it when my dad used to come home
I love it when he sat in his favorite chair i get problems off my chest
Because often when I came into the room, he was not there the weather is nice and the air is fresh
I love it when we would just go outside my mood is good
I love it when we would go for a ride i do the best i possibly could
I love it when I do the things with my son that I did not do i do what i know i should
with my dad i learn a lesson
I hate it when my son is sad i receive a blessin’
I hate it when he wants to leave work my hair is neat
I often get down and my feelings get hurt my tasks are complete
I love my son every night and day i got my mojo goin’
I love you, EJ the money is fl owin’
-Chief Dawg i pass a test
i have no confessions to confess
i’m in the zone
A Time to Think
i am at home
I love it when I am free, free as a bird, free as I can be. i put together the perfect blend
I love it when I was on the outs, i have a big bankroll to spend
ya know, roaming free and nothing to care about. when the music slumps
I love it when my time did not count. it feels so good i get goose bumps
I could hang with my dawgs, holla at chicks and clown. my wife cooks a meal
I love the things that bring me joy. the lord mends my wounds and i heal
I loved them so much that now I cry. i give a helping hand
Attempts to escape each day I try. i fulfi ll my duties as a man
Inside my head is a battlefi eld. i receive the love
It’s trapped with moments of joy, i see family although we don’t share the same blood
smiles, happiness and tears. my shoes are crispy
I love it when my eyes are closed. i learn from history
I can imagine that I am free, my kids say daddy
free as the damn bird, free as freedom can be. i’m smooth as a cadi’
I love it when I get a visit from my mom. i live life gladly
Now I love to think that my crime was so damn dumb. i make others happy
-Chief Dawg -L Bo, 150 Counselor
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PPaaggee 55
Breakfast entertain a small army or engage in a night that was not
to be forgotten.
With senior year out of the way, hot summer days gave
After laughing until I lost my breath, the odds
way to wild nights, camping on the beach with close
were in favor that nothing could be better. Much was
friends, and with a heavy cast of late fall humidity,
I mistaken after a few drinks over the topic of physical
snowboarding, and long-sleeves were traded in for
impairments and a game of cardless strip poker. I
coastal fog, and fresh, seaside chill. Additional to the
started drifting over patches of sand and shrub, when
long list of qualities, my girl and best friend are like
I felt a hand, distinctive in purpose and only matched
family, leaving no need to balance relationships. With
with the soft whisper of temptive promises.
the little dedication I had, I worked weekdays at a part-
I felt numb of burning alcohol pump through my
time job, and although weekdays got pretty busy, it was
skin, but once in the tent I was alive with desire. A
easily accustomed to delicious B-B-Qs and late bonfi res
devouring ache deep in my stomach that spread shivers
at secluded caves along Devil’s Slide.
along my spine and out through my fi ngertips. She
As usual, I wake up well rested on Friday morning
really is beautiful, creamy skin lost in waves of thick
and recall notice to a purple haze party in San
black hair and gem like eyes. My head was spinning,
Francisco. Carefully, I rolled off my bed and tiptoed to
taut breast, fl ush skin, and warm bodies painted with
the door, so to not wake my girlfriend. After a fl ashback
the fl icker of dancing fl ames. In my head I hear the
of the previous night, a shower was most certainly in
hollow sounds of laughter, spitting embers, and the
line, but before I had adjusted to the cold water, I was
surf pound on solid cliffs. I hear crickets, the rhythmic
covered in kisses. One after another until hot spray,
intervals of warm breath in thin ocean air. And with all
and warm lips kindled sensations of desire, of rushing
this I hear my friend telling me it is time for breakfast.
water, thick steam, and open curves. Fresh of soapy tale
Fast, before I can breathe, the skin, the laughter,
and peaches, I am introduced to a whole new aroma
the lights are gone. The fresh air replaced with a stale
stepping into the kitchen.
must. The warm fi re is cooled with an itchy state-issued
In the casual dungeon of cast iron and an indoor
blanket. The dreams as if leaves cracked with the warm
garden, we sit at a contemporary style bar, while my
rays of sun scattered through splinters in scratched
mother cooks bacon, eggs, biscuits, and homemade
glass and heavy bars.
salsa. The light is dim and cast shadows across the
Lost love and pause from reality hit hard, as the love
counters, covered with bowls of fl our, sugar, chopped
of my life, the one who helped me overcome fears, and
tomatoes, and grilled onions. Thick slices of peppered
stood by me for over three years is now lost, and found
bacon leave me in a dream world echoed with screaming
in the arms of my best friend as they preview the fruits
tea pots, hissing grease, and Miles Davis.
of a newly sought companionship. My mother’s cooking
After an enormous breakfast and building the
in Oregon with her new marriage. And the ocean still,
courage to stand up, my girlfriend and I drove to
quiet, and through the conclusive arrangements of
Montera to meet Justin, (one of my best friends) to surf
mindless criminals, I and many alike have lost our
for a few hours. The air was salty and frigid, the waves
oceans, our lifestyles, and our loved ones. So until your
were perfect with barreling cops near the North Shore. I
time, don’t let go of dreams. It is in faults we fi nd growth
love the way tourists stare in awe as if we were walking
and in dreams we hold hope.
into certain death, then are shocked when we dive into
I’ll write again after breakfast.
the near frozen ocean water.
-Clepto, San Mateo
After about two hours, I was done, but Rachel, (my
From The Beat: We already told you to do your own responses because
girlfriend), has not surfed in over a month, so we stay you leave us nearly wordless (and always breathless), so why are
‘till around four-thirty. After makeshift showers with the we here again with our minds blown trying to recuperate so we can
respond to this wonderful piece? It seems as if you took this heart-
parking lot hose and rounds of tacos at “Three Amigos,” breaking experience rather well. Or maybe that’s just the way it was
it’s concluded we camp under the stars at “the drop,” written. How did you react to that? If you knew back then what you
know now, do you think you would’ve done something differently?
a leaf lighted grove of sand and grass stretching to the
Why or why not? We can’t wait for you to fi nish your breakfast…
shore break of Rock Away Beach.
So we go back to my house and rummage through
rooms to gather supplies in ten minutes of hectic Within Ourselves
packing. With a total of two tents and fi rewood, enough
Passing days like autumn leaves fall to years; swept to
Bacardi to last a week, and a clustered pile of blankets
a pile and burnt and extinguished. Without warning,
and pillows, we set off on our journey. Arriving ten
torrential rains cleans heart, soul, and debris. Together
minutes after Justin and his friend Johnny, there was
like a kaleidoscope of beauty, re-enter the Earth’s soul.
an assortment of pads and dusty sleeping bags circled
Now, newly, enriched like a child’s fi rst knowledge
around a roaring fi re. Three pizza boxes, alcohol, ocean
of love and hate, sprouts a sapling longing to reach the
view and much more, we were either preparing to
endless sky. Within these walls, we can only accomplish
our dreams by setting goals within ourselves.
-Smelly Mel, San Mateo
Now, newly, enriched like a child’s From The Beat: That piece fl owed beautifully until the ending when
you hit us hard with that last line. Which, by the way, is one of the
realest things we’ve heard in a while. So what goals have you set within
fi rst knowledge of love and hate,
yourself? Do you foresee anything being a road block to these goals?
What are they? What can you do to get around them? Thanks again for
such a well-written piece.
sprouts a sapling longing
to reach the endless sky.
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PPaaggee 66
Tha Hustle And Run-On
The hustle breaks down to a very intricate and complicating meaning,
Nightlife to conjure as much currency as possible by any means necessary. The
hustle is often knocked by those who easily can make enough to survive,
The girl goes outside
not knowing, or knowing, but not willing to realize that not everyone is
And looks up as the stars
as adept to being able to work a job. And, to the troubled youth that ain’t
She starts walking down the block
able to make it through school, but still need to survive, what are the
Then jumps in random guys’ cars
other options? Who is left to decide the fate of them, but the ones who
Later she smokes a blunt
could honestly care less?
To relieve her of her strife
Careless, also a wide range of meanings. One of which that causes
But that’s how it goes
most unloved youth to reside in tha depths of solitude only accepting
This is the nightlife
love from himself for no one has ever showed it to him.
Showing… a major asset needed to make it through life. For we all
A young man walks outside
need help in one way or another, but what about that one child with no
He thinks about how he has no hope
father to show him, and a mother strung-out on drugs so she can’t show
He starts walking down the block
him. He who is left to watch tha kids, maintain tha household, and at
And begins selling dope
the same time, hustle for money to survive. But that child must be very
He feels no love
cautious for tha hustle is knocked.
But wants a wife
-O-Dog, San Mateo
But that’s now it goes
From The Beat: We already know you have book knowledge and street knowledge by
This is the nightlife reading your piece, but we’re wondering how somebody so aware of what’s going on could
end up where you are. Does knowing these things change the way you think –– or act? If
not, why? If so, explain how someone can know something to the fullest, write about it
The girl is now done smoking
with such brilliance, and still fall victim to it as if it was never a thought in his mind –– or,
And stumbles out of the car as if there are literally no other options. Is that what you really believe?
The girl is now hoping
To fi nd the closest bar
I didn’t know I was pregnant till I was in the ER, and
Every night she’s with a new man
Even though she’s a different man’s wife
they told me I was having a miscarriage from stress.
But none of this matters
This is the nightlife
The boy for the night has fi nished
Bare Naked
slanging
He’s all thugged-out
I see myself bare-naked in my dreams. Why? Just because my whole life
And he’s tired of bangin’
has been ruined. When I was little, my life was like a dream. When I was
He’s so full of sorrow
fi ve years old, I had gotten high off of bud through contact. It was three
Tonight his body will be hangin’
months before my sixteenth birthday when I learned how to get high. My
But his soul will be free
dad was never there; he was always locked up.
He’s no longer a prisoner
I feel so alone, so sad and lonely. When I was eight years old, I started
Of his own captivity
on sherm. As I grew up, every year I got harder into drugs. My mom was
His mind no longer feels
never able to control me. I would always run away.
All of this grief and strife
When I was twelve, my virginity was taken away at a party; I was
But none of this matters
stripped down naked, real bruised up from head to toe. I had gotten raped
This is the nightlife
by my ex and was always getting beat up by him just because if I didn’t
-Friskie, San Mateo
clean, or cook, or did anything he wanted me to do. I had got tired of it so
From The Beat: This is an incredible story-as-
poem, and it reminds us of singers such as Bruce I left him.
Springsteen who have sung tales illuminating Yeah, I was scared, but then I got back into drugs. I started to always
the dark corners of tragic lives being led in our
stay in the streets helping my brother-in-law make his money. I never told
hometowns. The rhythm of your words, and the
repetition of “this is the nightlife,” gives the anyone, but I had been pregnant twice. The fi rst one was from the guy
piece a performance quality — it seems as if it’s a who had taken my virginity; me, my nana, and her boyfriend are the only
piece written to be read out loud. What words do
you have for the girl who searches for love with ones who knew about both.
a new man every night? How would you console My mom was locked up for the fi rst one. She does not know about
the young man who seeks freedom from a world
of pain? either one of them till this day. I didn’t know I was pregnant till I was
in the ER, and they told me I was having a miscarriage from stress. My
grandma promised me she wouldn’t tell a soul and she has kept it ever
since, so now I’m in here and I want to get out, I want to change my life
because I feel stripped down, head to toe, from the fast life that I grew
up in. And I pray to God, day and night, to forgive me for I know I have
sinned.
-Sasha, Maricopa/SEF, Arizona
From The Beat: You know there’s this one woman that had gone through so much that
she wanted to commit suicide. She was on the edge of ending her life until she saw this
painting. This painting was a painting of a garden with beautiful fl owers and plants.
Looking at that painting gave her this warm feeling inside, so she didn’t end her life. You
know what she did? She decided to make a garden of her own with fl owers and all kinds
of beautiful plants. She said that she’s going to surround herself with beautiful things.
Not things that bring her down and make her feel ugly inside, and she gives God all the
praise. We’re not trying to tell you to go and make a garden, but do what she did, surround
yourself with beautiful things so that you won’t feel like you feel now. We feel for you and
have much love for you, Sasha. We’re here for you. God still loves you regardless of your
sins, and he doesn’t ignore the fact that you’re going through pain. It’s your decision to
make that turn or stay on that same lane. Are you going to make that turn?
PPIIEECCEESS OOFF TTHHEE WWEEEEKK PPiieecceess OOff tthhee WWeeeekk
VVoolluummee 99..3300
PPaaggee 77
I Love Freedom
I love it when I was a little child
Having no responsibilities and always running wild.
I love it when I played with my Nintendo A Piece Of Mind
Passing every level with Mario.
I love it when I got my fi rst kiss Only God can judge me
Remembering all the times I got dissed. The rest can forget me
I love it when I play football I grew-up in a world of haters and phony homies
Running people over and determined not to fall. My own family played me
I love it when I’m out on that fi eld And my girl had another fool’s baby
Going all out every down as if it was my last meal. The world is shady
I love it when I go fi shing with my dad Suicide was on my mind
Seeing the smile on his face made me glad. Then I realized
I love it when I make moms proud These are problems that I must ride
Knowing that she loves me more than most crowds. So I put the gun aside and
I love it when I’m with my girl Hold back the tears in my eyes
The woman that is my world. I walk around the Hall with a smile on my face
I love it when we touch lips But when I’m in my cell that when pain takes place
Being lost in her curves and slender hips. Wish my heart will stop it’s place
I love it when it’s just the two of us I am only seventeen
Having fun without any fuss. But seen more things that an old man couldn’t even dream
I love it when I pray to the Lord Screw homies, girls, and money
Forgiving me of my sins forever more. It’s the joy of love I need.
I love it when He shows me the light This ain’t a rap, rhyme or poem if you wonder
Bringing me out of the depression from the night. Just another story of another lost minor.
-Alfred M., San Mateo -Young Man, San Mateo
From The Beat: Oh, Alfred, what a poem! In these few words, From The Beat: Based on what you’ve written, we think you’re anything
you have managed to assemble a universe of images that all spell but lost. Sad, yes; confused, possibly; but no one who is able to refl ect
freedom, as if you were pointing a movie camera at those things in on the past with such insight can be considered lost. What will it take
life that make it all worth it. To be able to write any poem in the time for you to fi nd yourself? How can you continue to deal with the pain you
you’re given is remarkable by itself, but to write a poem as full as this feel, riding out the problems that must be ridden, confronting those which
one leaves us in awe. We love this poem. will continue to bring you down until you face them? Where, and from
whom, do you think you can fi nd the joy of love? What are these things
that you’ve seen? Maybe getting them out on paper will be the fi rst step
towards fi nding a lasting smile, one that doesn’t mask pain but instead
reveals joy.
I trembled
before you
Dear God
Dear God, holding my grandma tight.
as you took Remember I love her and I cry myself to sleep at night.
Remember please who you took her from.
And remind me that we’ll be together again when my time here is done.
Will you please watch over her as she sleeps, as I would?
her away. If only I had been given a chance, if only I could see her now. I wish so
hard — more than you could ever know.
I trembled before you as you took her away.
And I screamed for her back that same day.
And I
God, you took what I longed for without a thought of me.
I’ve been mad and sad and now I want to know – will I ever be truly happy?
Dear God, take care of my grandma. Tell her of my love
screamed As she gets to jump on all the clouds above.
Don’t let her doubt or ever forget
My love for her that she always met.
Will you hold her now as I would want to?
for her So I expect this out of you.
Do this for her. Do this for me.
Please do this for all of my family.
RIP, grandma.
back that I miss her.
-Esequiel, Santa Cruz
From The Beat: We are touched by the love you have for your grandma. Grannies are special
people; some of us have been lucky enough to meet our grannies. What are some of the special
same day. moments that the two of you shared together? Do you remember how she smelled? How it felt
to be in her arms? Do you remember how granny always seemed to make each day special?
How are you dealing with the pain? Remember, your grandmother only left you physically
— she is still with you spiritually. Now, her new home is in your heart.
PPiieecceess OOff tthhee WWeeeekk PPIIEECCEESS OOFF TTHHEE WWEEEEKK
VVoolluummee 99..3300
PPaaggee 88
Thoughts
really i ain’t got no friends
but got hella acquaintances
Product of My Community
when my anger start to show
for once in my life i wish i would have done things legit there ain’t no tamin’ this
instead of doing time for the crimes i commit out of all my p-o’s kids
i know i’m payin’ dues which i owe my community i must be the mainiest
but damn i’m a product of my community ain’t proud of things
so why am i payin’ for what these rich folks did to me but ain’t no shame in it
instead of buildin’ a park they hire more police to harass me especially when i come to this life of horror
s s f p d can buy new impalas but can’t update the library take a trip into my mind an’ i’ll give you a tour
claim they need them ‘cause my lil’ city’s scary ‘bout to speak on some things i go through
well it wouldn’t be give youngstas something to do some situations are guaranteed to speak to you
ninjas started to ride mini-bikes police tryin’ to take that too most of them in regards to retaliations
none of these rec’ centers ain’t new lookin’ all old an’ rusty but these parts of my life
can’t remember them paintin’ it since i was a young gee back in the fi rst bush administration
way back before my name was smokey wit’ moms steady pacin’
i laugh when i think ‘bout it goin’ back an’ forth to court
they say clean up the ‘hood but do nothing ‘bout it been tryin’ for years
they want a boy to grow to be a man to get pops for child support
okay then where thei’ helpin’ hand none of which he ever paid
‘cause most of us ain’t got no fathers moms sayin’ —
the few we have get locked up for stackin’ illegal dollars ya better be a good father one day
how y’all expect them to feed us when there ain’t no job offers always respondin’ — i will be
so can someone please tell me how they expect me to be — but i musta lied
livin’ where resources are limited struggle’s a everyday thing can’t support my baby on the way
growin’ up in South San Francisco an’ i’m dyin’ inside
i’m just a product of my community but back to my younger years
-Young Smokey, 150 Crew back when i still knew how to shed tears
From The Beat: Your indictment of our society’s priorities is powerful and sharp back then shhh was not as hectic
as a razor’s edge, but a double-edged razor that cuts both ways; ‘cause given but yet i was raised mighty reckless
everything you say, you still can’t let it be your excuse to fail. As a product of
your community, with your intelligence and ability, you could be a streetwise at age seven i found an’ held my fi rst pistol
visionary poet: Tell the truth as you know it, put it in words and show it! playfully holdin’ it at my lil’ cous’s head
Put down the gun and pick up a pencil, dispel ignorance that gets used as a
reprehensible screen for the meaner than mean realities you’ve seen. A poem not knowin’ it could’ve exploded
speeds farther than a bullet, its trigger is the human heart — pull it, and luckily the nine millimeter wasn’t loaded
change starts.
these are just a few of my thoughts right now
-Young Smokey, 150 Crew
From The Beat: It’s like you let the door to your life swing open
just a bit, so we peek in to see all of this danger and pain in it.
No father there to care for you, or even send money to share with
The Mother I Never Had you — and now you’re locked up and afraid you’ll do the same
to the child on the way to you. It’s true that if you’re born into a
life of violence, abandonment and confusion — it’s hard to turn
Last week I was in YGC. I wrote to The Beat about the system. it around and stop losing. But now it’s for your child that you’re
Well, today I am in Alameda. Now I want to write about not choosing, too. So don’t just repeat what happened to you.
having a mother. I don’t know how it feels to go home after school
and give my mother a hug. I went home to abuse.
I wish my
My father was a drug addict and he abused me in everyway I could think
of. I really had a messed up childhood and scars I will have for life.
I grew up with fi ve brothers and one sister. My sister moved out when
mother was
I was ten, then I was left with my crack-head father and my fi ve older
brothers.
When my dad would do drugs he would wake me up and beat me in the here. I wish I
worst way I can think of. I really blame my mother for leaving me in that
hotel room when I was two weeks old, not calling me on any of my birthdays,
not hugging me when I was being abused. could see her
I wish my mother was here. I wish I could see her here. I wish she could
love me the way I loved her. She is not dead; she is just not here.
She has two other kids that she has always been there for. Why was she here I wish
not here for me? I still ask the same questions every day.
-Angelica, 150 Crew
From The Beat: Angelica, in life we all have experiences that we cannot explain. It hurts. But, she could love
do you think that there is any reason or excuse she could give you that would be acceptable?
Instead of focusing on this question, focus on yourself. Who are you? What kind of person are
you? What kind of person do you want to be? You may have scars that are going to last your
lifetime. But, hopefully you can walk away with a valuable lesson too, and as a teacher to me the way I
help others. You can be that caring, loving, hugging person for someone that you care about,
the person that you wish you had. Thanks for writing and reading your powerful piece to the
group too.
loved her.
PPIIEECCEESS OOFF TTHHEE WWEEEEKK PPiieecceess OOff tthhee WWeeeekk
VVoolluummee 99..3300
PPaaggee 99
Not For Long
Derby and demolition
Time To Fight Back!
Life as a politician
Elections ya’ neva winnin’ Winnin’ an election
Laws they always bendin’ Is just another selection
What more can I be in this system? Of power
Will they ever listen? Some hide behind others
Young and needy ‘Cause they’re nothing but cowards
Or the old and greedy Democrat or Republican, either or
Infested by the terror of life Everything still goes sour.
We know what’s right They hold us down like slaves
They treat us wrong Throwin’ unjust laws in our face
Instead we fi ght each other Thinking one day they can replace
Unite and we can blow the cover off government once and for all Our fate
United we shall not fall But to not vote
Politics we hate it We forsakin’ our own destiny
Without them we won’t make it I hate to live in a world of corruption
It’s forsaken that we run our lives We can’t fi x our own country
We got power to change but we refuse to use it How can we declare another?
But choose to be abused by the laws we facin’ This bothers me
We in a desperate situation Because we are the ones who suffer
We need to take action If our country believes in peace
Politicians smack us in the face then we askin ‘ When will the government decease?
What happen? The killin’ in the streets
Now they clownin’ us For what it’s worth
‘Cause we dumb The government sucks
We read about our black leaders but never follow they’ step Until we get a real president who works for us
These things we regret There will be no peace
In these days come to past And it won’t be worth the fuss.
Then our future will be over To die today is to live free tomorrow
We need a movement now or never Emotions and sorrow fi lls our thoughts
The governments clever Not to fi ght back just add another loss
But we’re slicker than ever I’m tired of losin’ and being abused by this
Tomorrow’s a new day government
And do it the right way Laws and the fl aws within
Politicians we need them Our own states
Some laws we don’t My regrets is just living here
Government sucks and sometimes it don’t Another day.
I declare war and it’s time to go I can’t take no more!
Politicians we need them Time to fi ght back!
Some laws we don’t -Lil Jepeabo, 150 Crew
Government sucks and sometimes it don’t From The Beat: Fight Back! You’re a smart guy and we can
I declare war and it’s time to go feel your frustration. This can be a good combination. Just
focus your frustration, and do something positive. Your
To live free is to have justice in our life writing is a great start. Very inspirational! Help others,
Crime and war it ain’t even right teach others, support one another with exercising, reading
and writing. Start today in the unit! And take it to the
It’s like at night they take our souls streets!
Death has come for us
We out sayin’ go run Forrest
I’m a Taurus Democrat or
So I’m hard headed
Listening to these politics I still don’t get Republican, either or
I regret my situation now or ever
Time is now to unite together
Everything still
Whether we sustained the weather
I’m really clever
Understand that our minds are really strong goes sour.
You may own this nation
But not for long. They hold us down
-Lil Jepeabo, 150 Crew
From The Beat: Wow! Great piece of writing, we are in awe. Very creative piece!
Government does suck, and sometimes it doesn’t. You call it like it is! How do you like slaves
think our government got to this point? How can we, as the people of this country
make change? You’re declaring war, where is it time to go? Tell us more. How do
you plan to win? How can we make this world a better one? Count us in. Let’s work Throwin’ unjust laws
together!
in our face
PPiieecceess OOff tthhee WWeeeekk PPIIEECCEESS OOFF TTHHEE WWEEEEKK
VVoolluummee 99..3300
PPaaggee 1100
Road Trips
Lying naked, sprawled over crumpled sheets
As if love were a cargo truck
And sex-allied enthalpy, clouding minds, and drifting carelessly
over fl esh, paved roads
Time and time again, left cripple miles from help
Broken down and left for dead
I fi nd refuge in a Christian girl who drives by with helping hands
She ties two straps, but won’t take them off when we get home
Like shreds of a severed heart, she grips tight in holy hands
She won’t let go
I never asked her into my life
And who’d have guessed my love was for a schoolgirl
With braids, and dreams of a family
With Sunday school, and Bible studies
I didn’t ask for shhh, so untie me
Get out of my life, out of my bed,
and back under that stack of Bibles
Jesus freak, forget you false preachers
And with that, we tear ties over turkey sandwiches and cold soda
Back on the road, crushed from past loves,
Overwhelmed by new beauty,
and we take shots with the “good girls”
They take the wheel with the puckered lips and puppy eyes
They lead you to breathtaking mountains of fresh-fallen snow
Then, just as fast,
send you skidding reckless into this so-called love
Forget all of you friendly virgins
We try the rebellious type who stay out late Apologize to the Victim
They trick all the boys, and get in more trouble than you
They hide weakness under truckloads of makeup and tight pants If I had the chance to meet the victim of my
They lead you through city streets, crime, I would jump at the chance. I would want
past cheap hotels, and fl ashy theaters to have a chance to apologize to him. Even if he
You stop at parks and pound them into dirt and Earth doesn’t accept it, I would feel better by trying.
And then at your weakest moment, they attack I feel a lot of remorse towards my victim. I
Distracting your nerves, they reach in your pockets think I have changed my victim’s life totally,
They bite your heart, taking pieces then crush, chew, and twist and I regret the day I changed his life. He is
Then spit across the town for others to manipulate probably going through a lot of hardship that
Forget all those uptown cleptos I’ve caused him. He is also probably aware of his
I take these roads everyday surroundings and is more careful now — but he
Through dark tunnels and past, fancy street signs might even be traumatized, all because of my
Past fi elds and over hills, they all lead to pain stupid mistake.
So until I get the right directions I don’t feel angry at my victim, but I feel angry
There are no more road trips for me. at myself for not knowing better! My victim is a
-Clepto, San Mateo total stranger, but I imagine that he is probably
From The Beat: Once again you’ve outdone yourself –– at least in our eyes –– which angry at me — and I don’t blame him. If we met,
is why we think you’re a freakin’ genius. How the hell can you piece words
he’d probably cuss me out!
together as if they were pieces of the simplest jigsaw puzzle in the world? Well,
however you do it, we’re astonished when those pieces come together and paint I don’t know if my victim and his family still
a magnifi cent picture, as they always do in your poems. How did you come with hold resentment towards me, probably they do.
the idea to compare your experiences with women to going on a road trip? Come
to think of it, it doesn’t matter how you came up with the idea, you made it your But it’s possible they’ve forgiven me. I hope they
own. That’s why we can’t wait for you to drop another one on us. forgave me. I hope if I ever had the chance to meet
with my victim, that I could get his forgiveness
and that he would accept my apology.
-Abbas, 150 Crew
They hide weakness
From The Beat: We appreciate your seriousness, your insight
and your remorse on our topic. We especially respect your
wisdom in realizing that you would be the benefi ciary of
making a heart-felt apology, whether or not your victim
under truckloads
forgave you. In some spiritual traditions, before asking
the forgiveness of God, you must fi rst ask the forgiveness
of the victim. This is for your spiritual healing. In a sense
you’ve begun that process in this piece. It doesn’t end with
of makeup an apology, however — it begins. Now you must live a life of
making amends, if not directly to your victim, then indirectly
through the infl uence of your thoughts and actions on a
world of potential victims and victimizers. Again, you’ve
and tight pants already begun making amends, with your writing for The
Beat Within!